


Lazarus

by darkling59



Series: Annals of the Incomplete [47]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkling59/pseuds/darkling59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dystopian AU where Aizen had raised the espada from the dead to his bidding, and the shinigami are discovering where, exactly, his soldiers are coming from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A huge stack of files hit the table with a loud thump, silencing the quiet conversation amongst those present.

“These are the dossiers we’ve compiled on the espada, based on the information retrieved from the containing facility.”

Soifon looked grim, even more so than usual- her expression could have been carved from stone.

“How complete is the information?”

She scowled. “We have basic facts on their deaths and incomplete security footage on their training.”

“Names? Physical descriptions? Abilities?”

She nearly snarled. “No. No photos, records, or experimental reports. Nothing _individual_ or personal after Aizen got his hands on them.”

“Useless.” Mayuri hissed. “I recovered more information from the abandoned containment units!”

Jushiro jumped in before Soifon could go for his throat.

“Not necessarily.” He reached out to take a file. “We might be able to intuit their actions if we know their pasts.”

The insane scientist sneered. “Ridiculous. Even if any trace of the original human genetics remained, the neural and behavioral modifications would render such suppositions useless.”

“Worth a try.” Shunsui shrugged languidly, disregarding the glares of both Soifon and Mayuri, and leaning back in his chair to observe the other captains. Mayuri immediately swept out of the room, snarling and hissing commentary to himself under his breath. Out of the three of them that were left, ‘Shiro was the only one who looked even slightly interested in the papers. However, whatever he was reading in the first file was wiping away his optimistic, hopeful expression and replacing it with something somber and grave.

All traces of humor were purged when he looked back up at Soifon.

“Are they all this…intense?”

She nodded grimly. “Two overdosed (7, 8), one committed suicide (4), two died from gang activity (5,6), two were murdered (1,3), and two were killed in prison (2,10).”

Shunsui’s sighed deeply and tipped his hat forward. What a tragic waste. And to die so horribly, only to be brought back for Aizen’s experiments…? It was no wonder the espada had so many mental problems.

Wait…

“That was nine…what happened to the tenth?”

Soifon didn’t quite grimace but it was close. “Uncertain. We have not been able to identify the ninth espada. There was…conflicting…information in its file. The creature might not have been human originally.”

“Gang activity, you said?” Jushiro was looking through a folder labeled ‘6’, expression troubled. “This one had six broken ribs, a punctured lung, a ruptured spleen, a broken arm, and a fractured tibia _before_ being shot in the head. He was already bleeding out from a stab wound in the abdomen. This sounds more like torture.”

She nodded. “He seems to have been beaten shortly before. The fifth espada has corresponding injuries.”

Shunsui looked up, startled. “They fought together?”

A grim headshake. “They killed each other. The other one outlasted this one by five minutes.”

Disbelieving, Shunsui picked up the relevant file and flipped through it, wincing instinctively. “Ah. That sounds…painful.”

Jushiro looked up, quirking an eyebrow in silent question.

“Stabbed through the eye.” Shunsui tilted his hat further up to read the impressive list of injuries. “They were certainly…ah… _hostile_.”

“You said they are the fifth and sixth…?” Jushiro asked, only to startle and look around in surprise when Soifon was not there. She’d slipped out silently sometime after Shunsui started reading.

Shunsui sighed and sat back. Normally he’d be the first to delegate this task, and spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the garden with ‘Shiro and a jar of sake, but this was too important. Also, there was no one left to delegate _to._ Everyone else was performing their own tasks pertaining to Aizen’s betrayal and the newly discovered scientific facility. Not to mention the hundreds of illegal, amoral experiments that had been amassing for decades, maybe even centuries. Those that had been released during the raid, by Aizen’s design or damage to their cages, took priority.

The only reason Shunsui and Jushiro weren’t out there with them was because the younger captains still needed someone of sufficient authority to report _to_ and to provide backup if they were unlucky enough to encounter one of the escaped espada.

So, with a muted sigh, the eighth division captain picked up the next file and began flipping through, searching for anything that might help against their new foes.

Judging by the increasingly disturbed frown on Jushiro’s face, it would not be a pleasant read.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Starrk remembered his death.

Well, not quite.

He remembered _dying._

He couldn’t recall the shape of the thing piercing his chest, or why he couldn’t move or speak. Couldn’t remember beyond being _alone._

What he did remember was darkness and pain, so much pain. Sometimes, he thought he was back there; paralyzed, cold, and so, so tired. Dying in slow motion, as the pain leeched from his body to be replaced by biting cold, then numbness. Unable to move, talk, or call for help. He could tell there were people somewhere not far away but no one talked to him or tried to help…they just left him to die.

Why did that hurt?

Why would…?

Why _wouldn’t…_?

Just…why?

* * *

 

“It’s not workin’, taicho.”

“Hm. ” Steady. Calm. _Dangerous_.

“I mean, he ain’t even gettin’ a _mask._ An’ we’re running outta souls.” First voice again. Annoying.

_*Twitch*_

“This one’s suckin’ ‘em up like a sponge. I’m not even sure we’ve got enough to pull ‘im back.”

_Who…?_

*twitch*

“Hm.” A light, warm touch to the slightly spasming hand provoked a more intense tremor. The nameless, twitching man tried to furrow his brow in confusion but the muscles were lax and unresponsive. After a moment, one steel blue eye flickered lethargically, only to fall closed before focusing. A deep, tired sigh left his lips and his head drooped forward as far as his tight bonds would allow.

“He’s wakin’ up?” The annoying voice was surprised and amused. “Still suckin’ down souls, though. And still no mask.”

“This one will be strong. He is already at the level of a vasto lorde, and has the capacity for many more souls.” That first, smooth voice was much closer this time, hovering overhead. The same hand that had touched him before was feeling for a pulse and tilting his head back, to rest in its previous position.

“An espada, then?”

“Perhaps a new segunda.”

An impressed whistle. “That’s pretty powerful.”

The nameless, seated man dropped his head forward again, allowing long brown hair to hang over his features and curtain his eyes. The slight shadow allowed him to finally squint his eyes open and keep them that way, blinking slowly to focus.

“Indeed.” The second man, the one in charge, stepped away, not bothering to raise the seated man’s head again. “However, we must be patient.”

The seated man listened as the voices retreated to the other side of the room, conversing quietly. He could feel…something…tingling on his chest. No…IN his chest. Setting aside that disconcerting thought, he managed to peer up through his hair, trying to take a good look at his surroundings.

But before he could register more than metal walls and tanks of white fluid, the thing in his chest pulsed painfully and his consciousness slid away, sending him back into the blackness of nightmares.


End file.
